Blood: Alt
by Crimson Bttrfly
Summary: What if Diva’s and Saya’s fates had been reversed in the series? How would things have changed? AU
1. Prologue

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**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own the rights to Blood + nor do I own any of the characters in Blood +.

**Rating:** T

**Summary**: What if Diva's and Saya's fates had been reversed in the series? How would things have changed?

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**BLOOD: ALT**

Prologue

_Okinawa 2004_

The dingy filing room reeked of a foul musky odor. The light source overhead flickered sporadically, appropriately setting the mood. Akihiro Okamura frantically thumbed through a few folders that looked interesting, but to no avail – none of them contained any useful information. Quickly glancing down at his watch, he inhaled deeply and concluded that he had a few more moments to spare before anyone would notice that something was amiss. Discarding a manila folder on an unstable pile of files, Okamura made a quick survey of the small room. He was about to reach for another stack of unsorted papers when he heard a small "thud" sounding from the stack he had finished examining. Glancing over his shoulder, Okamura watched as the pile of files and folders slowly began to give way, resulting in a small avalanche. His face contorted into a grimace as he helplessly watched the spectacle play out in front of him in what seemed like slow motion. Papers, plastic coverings, and files scattered across the black and white tiled floor.

Panic-stricken and horrified that the secretary patrolling the office would hear the commotion, Okamura scrambled to collect the paperwork. Just as he thumped the collected assortment of files against the floor to straighten them, a photograph fell from one of the folders. Okamura would have given the picture little heed if it had not landed face down on his right shoe.

"Hugh?" he muttered, replacing the stack of papers in his hands. He carefully bent down again and picked up the photo. "I wonder where this came from?" He scanned the back of the picture which read: "Diva and Haji – New York – 1922."

Okamura furrowed his brow at this before turning the photograph over with a flick of his wrist. The black and white picture was now discolored, and the edges were fraying; however, despite its blemishes, the photograph clearly depicted a 20-something year old male and a teenage girl. The girl donned a black flapper dress and her hair was bobbed. The top of her head was adorned with a cloche that was pulled down, framing her face. The male was dressed in a businessman's attire. Both wore stoic expressions.

Okamura squinted his eyes as he tried to focus on the blurry background. It looked like the picture had been taken in a parlor. However, the only thing he could make out for sure was a large grand piano stationed right behind them. He would have continued mindlessly examining the photo if the clacking of stilettos outside the room had not alerted him to the fact that he was being missed.

"Mr. Okamura?" he heard the secretary call lightly in the distance.

"Shit," he sighed to himself. "Maybe this will be of some use." He quickly stuffed the photograph in his jacket pocket…


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

_Bordeaux, France 1863 _

Stars hung brightly against the dark blanket of sky. Amid the confusion of his present surroundings aboard a small wagon full of relatives, Haji still managed to find solace as he turned his gaze to the heavens. The rickety wagon creaked as it slinked over a few fallen limbs. The boy could feel the ride shake and rattle under him; one of the wheels had become unsteady, he noted to himself quietly. He turned to shoot his father a concerned glance, but found it hard to locate the old Romani in the dark. His lips parted slightly but before he could call out a warning, he could hear his father yelp out a few phrases of displeasure. Haji shut his mouth and went back at star gazing. They would stay where they had broken down for the rest of the night, he was sure. It would be a fool's errand to continue in the dead of night.

Haji slung his legs over the side of the wagon as he turned his attention to his father and cousins who were fussing over the broken wheel. It never ceased to amuse him; they traversed an angry terrain in the middle of the night yet the adults were always surprised when something went awry…

Growing bored watching the elders attempt to repair the wheel, he glanced back to see Yseult tending to his ill mother. Yseult was one year his senior at 13, dark, slender, and preparing to be married to a man in his late 40s. Haji watched her for a few moments before leaning back on his hands and pushing himself upwards to his feet.

"Haji," she whispered as she glanced up at him, concern glazing her brown eyes. "Shouldn't you be helping your father and cousins?"

He shrugged his shoulders in response. "I suppose we won't be making it to the city."

She cocked her head to the side, repressing a smile at his observation. "No... I wonder how long it'll take _them_ to realize that we should stop for the night?"

He smiled. "Three hours last time…" The moment the words escaped him, his thoughts turned to the grave matter at hand. "How is she?" he asked, glancing down at his mother. She was frail, shrunken, and as white as the pillow she rested upon.

"I'd be lying if I said her condition was improving. You really shouldn't be in here, considering that she has given birth, Haji. She's still impure."

"She doesn't look well," he said, ignoring her previous statement.

Yseult reached down and felt the dampened cloth that she had placed against the woman's head. It was hot to the touch. She furrowed her brows at this observation before pulling the rag off the woman's head and placing it in a bowl of cool water.

"That's the third time you've done that in the last hour. Is her temperature not going down?"

Yseult's lips sloped into a frown and her eyes darted downwards. Her change in expression answered his question better than words could have, and he lowered his head solemnly. First, the baby died during a prolonged delivery, and, now, it seemed that the merchant of death had come to collect his mother as well. Haji had always been told that bad things happened in 3s…

With ease, he turned on his heels and began toward the front of the wagon. Stopping short before exiting, he gave Yseult a passing glance. "Thank you, Yseult." He did not wait to hear her reply nor did he look to see her expression before hopping out of the wagon and onto the ground.

Haji surveyed the terrain -- the grass was overgrown, the ground was uneven and littered with fallen limbs and bramble. Stuffing his hands in his pant pockets, he followed the sound of his father's voice to the rear of the wagon.

"Haji!" his father called, waving the boy to come near. Neither excited nor hesitant at the prospect of trying to repair the wagon under the shade of nightfall, Haji acquiesced.

"Father?" he responded, nearing the old Romani. Haji glanced up to search his father's face only to find it veiled by darkness.

"Go up front and check the horses, especially Lucia – her gait has been off a beat since we left the last village."

Reflexively, Haji could feel his left eye twitch at the command. Lucia was a 24 year old mare who was little more than skin and bone. The horse probably should have been buried ten years ago; however, she was his mother's favorite, having been part of her dowry when she married his father. Haji expressed his dissatisfaction with a small snort before complying. Slowly, he stalked toward the front of the wagon; he was just about to run a hand down Lucia's bad right leg and check her hoof when the sound of an approaching carriage caught his attention. Instinctively, he glanced up to see a barouche traveling up a small nondescript road.

Haji breathed a heavy sigh at the observation. Judging from the driver's familiarity with the land, he was sure the barouche carried the property's owners. If his assumption proved correct then it would surely mean they were in trouble. Gypsies, as they were called, were rarely welcomed wherever they traveled, and trespassing laws were particularly strict in this area…

"We have guests," he called back to his father and cousins. He was certain they had heard his warning for as soon as he had given it they extinguished their lanterns and ceased their chatter. 'A little late…' Haji thought miserably to himself as he watched the oncoming carriage take a sharp left and begin its way towards their wagon.

"Haji, get in and check on the women," his father ordered sternly.

Haji didn't need to be told twice -- within moments he was climbing into the wagon. When he got in he was met with concern stares from both Yseult and his mother, who had just awoken.

"What is it, Haji?" Yseult asked worriedly.

Tightening his jaw, he averted his stare and inhaled a deep breath. "I dunno," he managed to lie through clenched teeth.

"Haji, is something wrong?" It was his mother's weak voice this time, and he had no choice but to lift his gaze to meet hers. She looked so ill, so pained, as she lay with her head propped in Yseult's lap.

Finding himself lost in her glassy blue stare, he found it hard to speak. His mouth became dry and his heart drummed at an accelerated pace. "Ugh," he stammered, nervously placing a hand against his neck. His thoughts were racing as he searched for the right words, but his search was interrupted by his father's abrupt entrance.

Haji turned to find his father's naturally dark complexion was now blanched, and he wore a grave expression. "Haji, come." He gave a small hand gesture before disappearing out the door.

Haji took a step forward before giving the two women a sidelong glance. He had the gnawing feeling of emptiness clawing at the pit of his stomach. There was something terribly amiss, he remembered thinking to himself as he looked his mother and Yseult over one final time.

"Haji, I love you," his mother murmured as he disappeared into the night…


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"There was no one a bit _older_ to purchase, Beauchamp?" Joel Goldsmith, an older gentleman whose thoughts were often bent on a more scientific nature, asked upon seeing his new ward in the light of his estate drawing room.

"Yes, sir, but they were _unsuitable_ for the purpose given to me," the valet stated in a soft tone.

Joel placed a cool hand to the boy's face as he examined his features. The boy, who looked to be 12 or 13, was dirty and ill dressed to be sure; although, Joel didn't expect otherwise considering the boy's lineage.

"Tell me your name, son," Joel's tone soften as he spoke the words.

"Haji," the child ruefully said, averting his gaze defiantly.

Joel smiled at the boy's impertinence, and moved to stand at his full height. "Beauchamp," he called, motioning for the man to come nearer. The moment the valet obliged, Joel bowed his head slightly so as to ensure their privacy. "Please, have him taken to be cleaned and dressed. Mademoiselle would not be very understanding if I brought him in his current condition."

Beauchamp nodded respectively before taking to the boy's side and ushering him further into the estate.

It was daybreak when Haji saw the mysterious Joel Goldsmith again. After he had been groomed like some dog, the servants had shoved him into an unoccupied room and locked the door behind them. With no way to escape, he slid his back down the door and eventually went to sleep. When Beauchamp had been summoned to collect the young ward the next day, he unlocked and opened the door to realize there was something blocking it. The small sliver of opening was enough to allow Beauchamp to peer into the room and discover what was obstructing the door.

"Young master," he sighed, gently nudging the door open.

Feeling the sharp corner of the door scrape against his back, Haji started from his restful state. Quickly, he turned to see Beauchamp standing in the doorway. Haji drew to a sitting position, rubbing the pain from his affected arm.

"Come, come," Beauchamp said, grabbing Haji up, "your arrival is expected downstairs!"

Before Haji had a chance to object, he had been shoved into a dressing area and clothed in a white shirt, blue jacket, and blue trousers. His black hair was roughly combed back into a small braid at the nape of his neck. He was then ushered downstairs to be presented to Joel.

"Ah, very good," Joel said, approvingly. "I'm sure Mademoiselle will be pleased," he added, pulling a coat over his jacket and moving toward the antechamber. Beauchamp nimbly managed to get to the door to open it for his master. The three climbed into the carriage, and began down the road.

Haji, for the most part, had remained silent and sat with arms folded protectively against his stomach. "Where are you taking me?" he asked, breaking his vow of silence. His voice was tinged with anger, anxiety, and frustration.

Joel glanced over at the boy, whose attention was locked on the scenery careening past his window. "To the Zoo."

Haji stirred at the word "Zoo." "How do you mean?"

Joel smiled at seeing the boy's interest spark. "The Zoo is where I keep my animals and such."

"And a mademoiselle is living there?"

"Indeed!"

"So, she is an animal?"

Joel chuckled at the boy's observation. "There are days where I would be inclined to agree with you, but no, Mademoiselle is most certainly _not_ an animal in the usual sense."

"_In the usual sense_?" Haji echoed, confused.

"No more of an animal than either you or I could be considered," Joel elaborated further. The explanation did not totally seem to please the boy, but he let the conversation drop as he returned his attention to the window.

Joel watched Haji with the penetrating eye of a scientist. There was something amusing to him about the boy. Haji was not extraordinarily handsome for his age nor was his demeanor particularly agreeable. And, Joel was most worried as to how the mademoiselle of the Zoo would take to Haji's company.

Heaving a sigh, Joel pinched the corners of eyes, and pulled a small book from his jacket. Haji saw the man's actions from the corner of his eye, and watched as the man began to scribble something into the book. Lowering his brow scornfully, Haji leaned over in his seat and scanned the vista. Eventually, the brush and trees gave way to expose a grand edifice – the Zoo.

Haji's erratic fidgeting had caught Joel's attention; he quickly replaced his journal and fixed his gaze on the boy. "Do you like it?" he asked, his tone almost fatherly.

"Like what?" Haji's voice was cold and bitter.

"Your new home."

The man's words hit Haji with such force that he was literally thrown back into his seat. Suddenly, he felt as if his world was crashing down on him. Perhaps the whirl of strangeness that he had experienced both the night before and now had distracted him from the fact that he had been bought and sold like some common farm animal. Or, perhaps, he imagined (as young boys are prone to doing) that somehow, someway his family would rescue him from _this_. But, now, he realized that he would probably never see his parents' or his cousins' faces again. They had really sold him into what seemed like slavery.

"You look displeased," Joel noted.

Haji responded by looking up at the man with widened blue eyes. He appeared as if he was going into shock – he looked like a caged animal who had just realized that he had been stolen from the savanna and was now restricted. Joel observed the boy's panicked expression, blanched complexion, and glossy eyes in silence. He had thought that Haji would have surely come to terms with his current predicament when he had been put to bed, but perhaps it was too soon…

Joel's lips parted, ready for speech, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sudden stop of the carriage. "We are here!" he exclaimed. "Come, come, you must greet your new mistress!"

Climbing out of the carriage, Joel followed by Haji and then Beauchamp, made it up the stairs to the entrance of the Zoo. As they paused at the door, Haji could hear the sounds of music and singing emanating from within the manor. The music, he correctly guessed, was being played on a piano, but the voice… it was soothing and gentle, relaxing – dulling – his senses. His mediation was quickly interrupted, however, when he felt Beauchamp gently push him forward into the Zoo's foyer.

Haji followed Joel into a well decorated room with a grand piano centerpiece. Stationed at the piano was the Mademoiselle he had heard so much talk of. She had stopped playing upon hearing the door creak open.

Haji stepped to Joel's side to observe this Mademoiselle. She was pretty – an ordinary kind of pretty, Haji noted. She was slender with long raven hair that hung loose down her back, and she wore a fine blue and white dress. She looked to be in her late teens; although, Haji could not offer a guess as to whether she was 15, 16, or 17 years of age.

"Who is this?" she asked in amusement.

"This is Haji," Joel responded, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. "He is to be your new _friend_," he added.

Haji straightened at the word "friend", but managed to maintain his impassive, if not slightly agitated, expression.

"Haji, I present to you Mademoiselle Diva."

"He's so tiny," Diva stated, standing from her place at the piano. "Can he do anything useful?"

Joel cringed at her words. Perhaps he would have been wiser to worry less about the boy's manners and more about hers. "Your meaning, my child?" he stated firmly.

"Can he play an instrument, draw, paint, fence, or write?" she asked, directing the question at Joel.

"Diva," his voice became strict, "why don't you make our guest feel at home?"

She crossed her arms in front of her and fixed a devious eye on the boy. Gracefully, she bent at the knee to address him. "Do you know how to play the piano?" she asked, trying to sound civil.

Haji turned his cheek to her and looked away.

Diva stood to her full height and smiled - amused at his insolence. "I suppose not," she sighed. "Perhaps I could teach him?" she said, glancing over at Joel who seemed to think well of her idea. "You do know how dreadful I think it is to play the piano, and how I'd much rather just sing. So, perhaps he could be of _some_ use in this endeavor."

Joel's expression then fell. His intentions for the two appeared dashed. Haji was perhaps too young to be seen by Diva as anything more than a plaything, or at worse, a child to whom she would need to play mother. And Diva's social skills were so lacking he doubted that the kindest man in all of French society would have her…


End file.
